Awareness comes suddenly.

This ain’t Louisiana, that ain’t an heirloom quilt, and she ain’t no dream girl. That’s Kelsey.

Oh shit.

I play possum and try to take stock of the situation. Through barely open eyes, I see Kelsey standing in front of a mirror, examining her body. I wish she’d drop that sheet a bit lower so I could join in the inspection.

Because I sure as hell don’t know what happened.

But, given the pounding behind my eyes, I’m surprised I can recall my own name. Jesus. That was some strong shit they served last night. Gotta remember to not drink Omaha Special Blend Whiskey in the near future. Or ever again.

I take stock of my body. I feel like crap. But that’s the hangover talking. My shoulder hurts, but I think that’s explained by my tackle of Kelsey yesterday after throwing the Betacam at Scamp. I am certainly relaxed, but it doesn’t seem quite like the normal post-sexual lassitude I typically enjoy. Did we? Or didn’t we?

I hear Kelsey begin rummaging around for something near the bed. Rolling over, I push myself up on my elbows to observe her. I think my Little Roo is upset.

"Did I do that?" she asks my shirt, as if it might answer her.

"Un-huh," I answer on behalf of my shirt. This is one of the few things I recall from last night. "You bit the first two off, then you just ripped it open." Surprised the hell out of me. Little tiger. I may have to change her nickname.

"Oh please. I have never in my life bitten off a button. Let alone two." The most precious blush is creeping up her neck and cheeks.

"Well, you did seem to find ripping them off far more satisfying." Come on, Kels, this isn’t so bad, is it?

"Harper." She sounds so weary. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Umm-hmm."

"Will you answer it honestly?"

"Umm-hmm."

"What happened?"

I smirk, a bit relieved that she doesn’t know either. At least, we have a level playing field. "You mean you don’t remember?"

"No," she squeaks.

God, it’s too funny to see the fierce Kelsey Stanton standing wrapped up in a sheet and looking none too sure of herself. I laugh at the thought and get smacked in the face by my shirt, suddenly flung at me by an angry blonde.

"Go to hell."

Ah, damn. I didn’t mean anything by that. Come on, Kels, this is funny. I mean, we both obviously want each other. This isn’t the end of the world, is it? "Ah, come on, Kels." I follow her to the bathroom and knock on the door.

"Leave me alone!"

"That’s not what you said last night," I tease. Kels, don’t be this way. It doesn’t have to be this way, right?

"Fuck you."

"Yup, that’s what you said last night. See, Kels, it’s all coming back to you now."

"Harper, if you have a kind bone in your body, you’ll let me take a shower in peace."

"No problem." Guess it does have to. "Could you hand me a robe first?"

The door opens, she stares for a long moment and then she shoves a robe into my hands, the door closing again immediately. "Here."

Maybe this can still be salvaged. "Do you want breakfast? I’ll have room service send something up." Perhaps food will calm the savage beast.


* * *

As the water runs over me and I let it wash away some of the cobwebs, I try really hard to remember what the hell happened last night.

All right. Now let me think. We came back here. I remember Harper having a little trouble getting the door open.

Oh God. It was because I was standing behind her running my hands up and down the front of her shirt.

I remember pushing her into the wall and kissing her senseless once we were inside. She tasted so good, oh so very good. I remember the burning in the pit of my stomach, the ache between my legs. Oh Jesus, I remember wanting her so damn bad. I don’t ever remember feeling like that before, to want someone so much it hurt.

Her hands were all over my body and felt so good. I didn’t want her to stop. I wanted her to take me to bed and make me feel, make me feel anything she wanted me to. Of all the things I do doubt this morning that, most certainly, is not one of them. Last night, I wanted Harper Kingsley.

Have I lost my fucking mind?

Good God. I lean against the shower wall as the water runs over my body. How goddamned irresponsible could I be? Harper is my co-worker. The last thing I need is an affair with her. I laugh a little as the word "affair" tangles itself in my mind. I didn’t want an affair. I wanted a quick fuck.

It was a bad idea then and it’s bad idea now.

I finish my shower and begin toweling off, trying to remember the rest of last night. Okay. After the kiss, what happened? What happened?

She began undressing me. Slowly. I remember it being slowly. Far too slowly for my tastes.

Shit!

I did bite her buttons.

Fuck! I think I even spat one across the room.

Then she caught on to the game we were playing and began undressing me the way I wanted it done. Fast and hard.

We ended up on the bed pawing each other like the first two women to discover great sex. Oh yeah, I remember her long strong, body coming to rest on top of me. Her firm thigh finding the exact spot that I wanted it in. Her mouth on my neck.

I lean with my hands against the sink, my head down and my eyes closed as some of those sensations come flooding back, nearly causing my knees to buckle.

Then what the fuck happened?


* * *

I hang up after ordering breakfast. In the bathroom, I hear shower running and I try not to imagine Kelsey’s naked body under it. As the fog clears, I do remember the magnificent body I uncovered last night.

I started imagining it in detail when we were out dancing.

I remember the Denim Diamond, the country and western bar we ultimately ended up at. It was a classic – sawdust scattered on the floor, along with peanut shells, a large dance floor, lots of two top tables circling it, and peroxide waitresses in boots. Those are a personal favorite of mine.

But, I hardly noticed them last night with Kelsey.

We grabbed a table near the dance floor, ordered a round of drinks and listened to the latest Dixie Chicks single. Some of the locals recognized us from the television coverage and sent over another round.

And then another.

And another.

And then someone showed up with a bottle of Omaha’s famous special blend whiskey. Which we drank.

Soon, there was a whole crowd around our table, laughing, drinking, and daring us to line dance.

I was actually pretty good considering I was drunk off my ass. Kelsey, bless her heart, was trying.

So, like any good friend, I helped her out. I found the best way to do that was by placing my hands on her hips and guiding her through the steps. Good, clean, innocent fun.

Certainly nothing that anyone at the bar thought twice of.

But, they didn’t see us in the hallway outside her room at the hotel.

I remember her fondling my breasts as I tried to open her door, causing me to drop the damn card key twice. Each time I bent down to pick it up, she ran her hands over my ass in ways I didn’t imagine she would think to do.

I nearly bashed my head into the wall the first time.

The second time I moaned and got the fucking door opened.

We stumbled into the room and somehow managed to get the door closed. No need to give our fellow guests at the hotel a free show. I was surprised to find myself pressed up against the wall. Not quite how I imagined this moment. It was supposed to be Kels against the wall, me pressing against her, taking control.

I was so shit-faced.

She was climbing up my body, her hands on my shoulders, her legs around my waist, her mouth everywhere. Damn. I thought she just got laid last weekend. She acted like I was the last drink of water in the middle of the desert.

The way her tongue was probing in my mouth she wasn’t going to share any of it with me.

I tried to cool things down a couple notches. I remember exchanging slow kisses, pulling away when she tried to deepen them. My fingers found the buttons on her blouse and I tried to undo them slowly.

She was having none of that.

I yelped when she leaned forward and bit my top button off.

God, I thought she was going to take a hunk of my flesh with it, her expression was so intense.

When she spit it across the room, I got the hint. I stumbled across the room to the bed – you should try walking gracefully when you have a hundred pound hellcat in your arms – and we collapsed on the bed together.

I remember ripping the clothes off her body while she destroyed my shirt. First the silk one in the library, which she never did pay me for, and now this one. I might be safer going topless around her.

Yeah right.

She calmed down a bit once we got naked.

I just wish I knew what happened after that.


* * *

Finally, I know I have to face the inevitable. I hear the knock on the door and Harper answer it to allow room service to bring in breakfast. I take the opportunity to put on a robe and wrap my hair in a towel.

Maybe breakfast will help. We can sit down and discuss this like two rational adults.

Once the waiter is gone, I exit the bathroom. Harper gives me a smile as she adjusts the table. "I wasn’t sure what you wanted, but I guessed you’re a fresh fruit and bagel for breakfast type."

"I am. Thanks."

She smiles as she holds a chair for me. I glance sideways at her. She’s being far too kind. As I take my seat, she moves to the chair across from me and pours coffee for herself, then she hands me a cup of tea.

"Earl Gray, right?"

"Right."

She leans back and drapes her napkin in her lap. "I, however, am a ham and eggs type." She uncovers her plate and looks at the meal with an appreciative nod. "Looks good."

"Uh-huh," I offer as I sip my tea.

We sit in an awkward silence. Well, actually, I sit in an awkward silence. Harper is eating breakfast.

"Kels, what’s wrong?" She finally responds to my staring at her.

"What’s wrong? You have to ask?"

She looks up from her breakfast as she cuts through the ham. "Yeah, I have to ask. I mean, is it really that bad?" She takes a bite as she waits for my answer.

"Harper, we got drunk and we came back here and we… we…"

"Made love."

"Ah, is that what you call it?"

"Well, isn’t that what we did?"

"Do you know where the buttons are to your shirt?"

She chuckles. "No."

"Then it wasn’t making love, Harper. It was sex." I lean back in my chair and set my tea cup down. I hate how composed she looks. How it seems like none of this matters to her. I want her to feel as badly as I do. "You know sex. You’ve had lots of it."

Puzzled blue eyes meet mine. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

"Harper, the first time I laid eyes on you, you were practically fucking a woman on the seat of your motorcycle."

She laughs a little as she nods. "And you should have seen the look on your face. It was priceless."

"I’m so glad you’re amused. I mean, it was such an accomplishment for you, such a quality moment in your life. And let’s not forget about Sparky."

"Her name was Victoria." She sets the knife down forcefully, her breakfast forgotten for the moment.

"And did you see her more than once?"

"No."

"Do you ever see anyone more than once?"

"Occasionally I might find someone I see two or three times."

"So basically you notch your bed post and move on."

"Christ, Kels, what do you want? A run down of my sexual past?" she growls as she wipes her mouth with her napkin. "Sorry, I don’t keep track. I have healthy sex life and I enjoy it. Unlike some people."

"Is that a dig?"

"No, that’s a fact. You’re so fucking uptight, you squeak when you walk."

"Oh, that’s rich coming from someone who will sleep with anything that’s willing."

"Willing is the key word, Kels. And you were more than goddamn willing last night!" she says as she gets to her feet and begins collecting her clothes.

"That was last night. So now you can go home and add another notch."

"You’re not worth one. On my bedpost or anywhere else."

She starts dressing quickly, slipping on her jeans and T-shirt followed by her shoes. She collects everything else and starts to wrap them in her shirt. As she does, she pauses, reconsidering, then tosses me the shirt.